


Make Me Live

by Thommo_Leigh



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-01 21:42:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20516255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thommo_Leigh/pseuds/Thommo_Leigh
Summary: James Buchanan Carter has recently turned 19 and he celebrated this year with a major depressive slump where he never left his adoptive parents' side. It's not that he doesn't love his life, he just needs someone to make him live it.





	1. One- Accepting the Ride

"Come on Jamie- I've not seen you in ages." The other man pushed up in his space and all too quickly moved his hands towards his face. However, upon seeing the instantaneous flinch from the other, his hands stilled, before supporting his face gently. These hands made the other lookup the last two precious inches to meet his steely blue eyes. “You missed your own birthday…”

He cringed inwardly, remembering the slump he had found himself in just before his 19th birthday that caused him to cancel all plans in favour of doing odd jobs at home. "I've been busy..." James mumbled weakly to himself in the hopes of excusing some of the guilt he felt from his absence. He moved his arm to run through the other’s white-tipped hair. It was mostly the truth, he had kept himself very busy these past few months, helping his Da start up a very old car. But it wasn't like that took up all of his day. He guesses he just felt too low to really go out. That happens sometimes so it wasn't abnormal but still, the guilt was always a given.

The taller man nodded slightly at his whispered words. "I know- but we can get away from all that tonight." He smiled softly down at James. "Did you miss me?"

James nodded earnestly. "Of course I did Piet." 

Pietro grinned from ear to ear down at his friend and was now almost vibrating with excitement. "Ride with me?" 

James glanced from him to the motorbike he was referring to. It looked big enough and sturdy enough to support them both. "Let me tell my Ma first?" 

Scarcely giving the other time to do anything other than give a nod, James pulled back and smiled softly before spinning on his heels like a pinpoint and running messily up his porch and into the house. 

It was a rather large house in the middle of nowhere. Nothing but fields surrounding it as far as the eye could see. It was very quiet, very safe and still somehow less than a half an hour drive to get to James' therapist. It was certainly not where Steve and his wife Peggy saw themselves moving, but once they brought James into the family no one could deny it was perfect. 

Sprinting through the beige hallway at the front of the house and trailing his hand along the rough wallpaper so that he may use the corner of the wall to turn, he soon arrived in the large living room where his mother sat beside the window. Sunlight enveloped her as she sat finishing some paperwork she was sent home with. She works for the government so there was always some paperwork to be done. 

James remembers once trying to ask her about what her job really was. He remembered how she had smiled at him so softly and cupped his face before saying; "If I told you, I'd have to kill you." She didn't even give him time to register the threat to his own life that was just proposed before she was messing with his hair. "And we don't want that, do we, Kidda?"

"No Ma..." James had croaked before swearing off even acknowledging that his mother had a job for the rest of his life. 

Now years later he still refuses to recognise her work out of sheer fear of not making it to twenty-five. "Are you busy, Mother?" He asks, perching himself on the arm of the rather large leather sofa beside her. He glances quickly around on contact to see if his dad was anywhere visible. 

He knew that him sitting incorrectly on the sofa was a trait that very much annoyed Steve, so he liked to deploy it whenever he felt like Steve had been treating him too delicately lately. It's not like Steve wasn't an amazing father, because he was, he really, really was. It's just that Bucky was never treated at all gently until he was thrown into the Carter household. So to say that Steve's total sympathy and adoration for him could be a bit overwhelming at times was an understatement. Sometimes he liked to just push Steve to get that little flicker of annoyance to flash through his eyes, to help him feel more human and not just a little puppy that Steve had found on the side of a rainy road. 

However, as he had soon learned (well, once he realised that he was safe enough to push the boundaries in this home), it was nearly impossible to annoy Steve. 

Leaving the lights on? Nope, not a stir.

Not doing his chores? It would get him a scolding of Peggy but again, Steve wouldn't rise. 

Being two hours past curfew and stumbling home pissed out of his head at 15? No, that was the worst one. Steve wasn't mad at him, not one bit, but Jesus did he cry. His father crying himself sick out of worry and genuine upset at something he had done was an image he didn't think would ever leave his head. What only made things worse is that when he'd finally managed to sober up enough to console Steve, the excess of alcohol triggered a bloody seizure. Therefore he had the pleasure of waking up in a hospital bed beside two concerned, crying parents and an epilepsy diagnosis. Which gave them a whole new thing to treat him like he was made of glass over. 

"Not really, Jamie." His mother spoke with a sigh and pulled him from his thoughts as she laid her work on the coffee table. "Why?" She looked up at him carefully, her hair falling in front of her face at the rushed movement. Catching his eyes and pushing the corner of her lips into a soft smile before continuing; "Do you need anything, sweetheart?"

Quickly shaking his head as he tried to smile back he gestured to the door with his hands. "Piet's askin' if I wanna go for a ride with 'im. I was just gonna ask if that was alright." 

She leant back into the window to observe Pietro messing with his jacket in anxious wait in front of his bike. Rolling her eyes she looked James up and down, "You want to go for a ride in that?" 

James looked himself up and down, everything matched and went together well so he wasn't fully sure where his mother found fault.

His confusion must have shown on his face as Peggy sighed. "You're wearing shorts, James. You could lose a leg. Please go get changed."

No argument followed, he knew that it was one he would lose. He got changed as quickly as possible and his mother was waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs brandishing his father's helmet before him with a stern look til his hands grabbed hold of it, whereupon she smiled. 

"Please be careful out there, James." She surveyed him carefully. "Please." It was enough of a plea it made his chest tighten and him realise she probably only agreed to let him go on a tail of a motorbike with someone who tenuously passed their test at best because it was the first time he'd wanted to go out and see people in months. She almost didn't have a choice in that regard. 

"I will be Mama." He said earnestly. "We're only going for a little drive. It's going to be okay."

He took a step away from her as she nodded and kept the small smile on her lips. “I’ll see you soon, Jamie.” 

“You will.” 

Pietro was sat on his bike and smirked up at him when he saw the helmet. He leant forward slightly and readjusted his grip on the handlebars. “Nice skinny jeans.” He almost laughed. “What are they, womens? I was wondering what took you so damn long.” James didn’t have time to respond before Pietro was talking again. “Come on, hop on board then.”

He was moving to get on but it seemed he had exhausted Pietro’s patience as before he got on Pietro was talking yet again. “James Buchannan Carter. We don’t have all day, we have places to be you know.”

James was on the bike by now and fastened himself in and tightly wrapped his arms around his friend’s chest. “Do we? Guess you better start driving then, huh?”

Pietro wasted no time following his suggestion as he shot off almost as fast as the bike could go. The tires tearing into the ground below it and kicking up a cloud large enough to envelop them in dust regardless. James wanted to laugh at his impatience but knew not to as it would probably end in him swallowing something unpleasant. Looking around proved to be a difficult task due to the G-forces that acted upon his body, however, what he could see without moving was beautiful. Lush greens and golden fields all melded together like a river in his vision, weaving in and out of focus to the tune of 70mph. Trees guarded the roads after a while, blocking out the river with a wall of earthy browns that towered into the sky above their bike. The wind felt more like a helping hand rather than a hindrance. It was cold enough and hit his face rough enough just to remind him that he was alive.


	2. Two- Impatience Wins Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this has some creepy and a threat to characters so yeah please be careful (I feel like the BBFC)

A few hours had passed and they found themselves in a gas station diner for some food. It was undeniably on its last legs, looking like something straight out of a horror movie. A taxidermy mural smothered the wall above him, what plaster could still be seen through the carcasses was cracked and falling apart, mould filled the corner of the walls and every door had enough holes in it to be awarded a Purple Heart at least. 

Normally James would have said no way in Hell to stopping at a place like this. But after hours in the heat and howling against the wind, his patience was all tapped out. This was immensely rare, but God, James needed a drink or something.

After providing Pietro with money and commissioning him to place their order at the bar, he sank into a seat at the corner of the room so that he couldn't be snuck up on. It was just a force of habit and it probably wouldn't need to be deployed.

However, less than fifteen minutes since he was left by himself with only the occasional glance and wave from his friend, he could feel his heart constricting in his throat. 

James soon caught himself squirming slightly under the gaze of several unsavoury looking men while Pietro was ordering at the bar, for a normally fast talker, Pietro certainly seemed to be dragging his heels this time around. James settled for looking at the table and tying up his wind-battered and helmet disturbed hair up into a bun to keep it out of his face. He then pressed his hands firmly to the table below him, taking in the roughness of the chipped wood and the pressure on his hands to keep him distracted from what (despite there only being a few people in the room) felt like the sting of a thousand eyes. 

Pietro finally wandered back to the table holding the tray of food proudly in front of him as if he had made it himself. His smirk soon disappeared when he realised that the burger on his plate tasted like watered down wallpaper and he didn't even want to imagine how they did that to the fries. His smile disappeared further when he noticed his friend not even attempting the food but toying with it anxiously.

“I know it doesn’t taste all that great, but, Jamie you need to-”

“Leave. We need to leave.” James cut him off abruptly still staring off into space, his eyebrows knitting tightly together in rising anxiety. 

“Why? Is everything alright? It honestly doesn't taste that bad, James.” Pietro rambled trying to sense why James had shut down entirely so quickly, after all, James had been the one who wanted food. Pietro committed to his lie by placing several fries in his mouth and grimacing as he ate them. 

Pulling himself away from where he had been staring he met Pietro’s eyes, he feared he wasn’t doing as good at hiding his tears as he had been hoping for. He could feel them staining his cheek before he could say another word. “Please.” His voice had begged but it wasn't a request. He didn’t give Pietro time to respond before he had jumped to his feet, grabbed his jacket and made his way back to the bike, his throat constricting tightly when he was followed outside by more than Pietro’s anxious footsteps.

……………….

“You’re a long way from home, aren’t you?” The alcohol-fueled voice of the stranger washed over him like something corrosive and already made him feel unclean, alone. He could feel more of the men move around him. The nostalgia washed straight to his stomach and made him feel sick with every fibre of his being.

The man's shadow loomed over him but the man was not yet close enough so that James could hear his breath. He felt like he was drowning in the shadow before him. The darkness smothered his lungs. He couldn't breathe.

“Am I not worth the response then, little one?” His voice was as if the gunk of the sewer had crawled into his recently opened wounds. James was yet to turn to face him and he was certain he didn’t want to, that it would feel like dying.

“Get away from him!” Pietro growled from the door, tightening his grip on the steak knife he had grabbed on the way out of the restaurant. A futile quest at best,’but it could never be said that Pietro didn't go down without a fight. 

The man laughed harshly and James could feel his eyes leave him. “Oh- Go on then! I’ll give you a ten-minute start down the road. If we catch you, we get the boy.” He proclaimed, as though he had said something jovial in a sickeningly synthetic tone. 

James’ brain almost shut down as he began shaking and trying to think about why that voice, that tone, hell, that challenge felt so familiar to him. However, all he could manage to think was about how he was dying.

“Why the fuck would I agree to that?!” Pietro stepped towards the man.  
Moving the knife upward deliberately, he tried to be threatening but only drew another laugh out of the man. 

The man diverted Pietro's attention to the two men who had moved to hold them both at gunpoint. “You have ten minutes.” 

………………...

James doubted if he’d ever seen Pietro move that fast. He didn’t know what was happening, only that his hands were numb as they gripped onto Pietro’s torso and his face was numb from the bitter winds. He had left his helmet at the table so he gripped onto Pietro as his friend shakily pushed the bike forward, faster and faster above the limits of the road. He could hear the mumbling of the wind churning and churning in the same way he felt his stomach was. 

He could hear Pietro’s voice catching on the wind. “Who the hell were they?! James?”

He didn’t know who they were. At least, he hoped he didn’t, but all the same, his knowledge of them didn’t really matter, as they certainly knew him. He had known something was wrong after something in the restaurant had caught his eye. A scrap of metal placed above the door. He had only seen a tentacle or two, but it made him remember the sound of his own eight-year-old screams so he had begged to leave. He found that he had to beg internally a few times before the sounds even left his lips. Something about that symbol, that man, stunned him into silence, into unresponsiveness. He knew he was crying, he knew that his knuckles had gone white from their tight grip on Pietro's clothes and he knew that the speed they were going made him dizzy as lights and trees flew past him before he could even register them. He knew all this, however, he couldn’t feel anything but bitter vacancy. It was almost as if he was floating above his body and not the one in it at the control panel. His thoughts were consumed by his own screams amongst the vacancy. 

“I’m sorry.” His voice croaked against the wind without him intending for it too. 

Headlights pricked the road behind them as if it were the sights of a sniper lining them up for the perfect shot. 

“Fuck- Can’t this thing go any faster!” Pietro begged into the wind, his voice shredded by the fear and the battle to be heard. By man or God himself, no one could tell. 

The glare was blinding.

So blinding he almost didn’t see her. 

.....................

She flanked them like she knew what she was doing, which she obviously did. She was almost sincere. She meant every movement. She was a borderline professional. Roaring out of the blackened trees that lined the winding road (or so it seemed to James as she soared into view, tires snarling as they made contact with the old tarmac) as she went to smash into their bike with her own sending them into an uncontrollable swerve. 

Pietro scarcely managed to avoid her through a well-timed (lucky) swerve. He overtook her and pushed forward, panting into the gale-force wind that pushed them back. He glanced upwards to a mountain that would soon block out the sun. There wouldn't be enough light to fight her off if the sun abandoned them. They had to make it to the city before then. There was no other choice. 

James watched her, wide-eyed. She was really going to kill them. This wasn't just some drunk threat. This was real life. His life. His heart was working overtime as it pounded in his chest, almost as if it was trying to catch up on all the beating it wasn’t going to do. 

Being the passenger to this display was almost crueller. He really was helpless, dehumanised, a prize sought after by these monsters, who set out to kill him, while he could do nothing but hold on and watch. All his hopes were riding on Pietro, who was just a kid, and if they died, it would be for the sake of James. What a horrendous way to die. 

Silver hair billowed out of her helmet as she kept pace with them and tried to push them to the side. Her hands were gloved in a golden fabric that shone in his eyes when it hit the fading sunlight correctly; it acted the same as sunlight off a lion's teeth before the killing blow. 

Attempting to ram into them again, she became close enough that James could see that her eyes were blue through the helmet. His blood ran cold as he saw the smile in her eyes as she went for them again.

Wildly, she swung for them, they were prey to her and she was going to kill them. 

His throat was dry and his hands cold. His body, helpless, trapped, could do nothing more than prepare itself for the mortician's slab.

Time stilled for a moment when he felt her hands on him. What the hell was she doing?! He felt her pull him back and almost tipped the bike. Pietro tried to speed up, which only slowed them further still and pulled him more into her embrace. It's not like Bucky was super light, not even enough to be tossed around by someone of her build, so he imagined that the insane speeds they were moving at helped make him moveable.

Fighting free of her superhuman grip, he was thrown back onto the bike, where he clung to Pietro desperately, he could feel trembling as he was sobbing at such a frantic pace by now. The bike shook violently and uncontrollably. Pietro was begging to the apathetic heavens to not lose control of the bike, not now. 

But it was too late. The bike was just short of spinning, the steering unresponsive. He tried to hit the brakes, but the listless machine wouldn't listen. They were strapped in for a front-row viewing of their own demise. James bit through his lip and tried to close his eyes. He knew what was coming, and he didn't want to see it. 

He thought about his family, who would never really know what happened. They would be up waiting for him to come back, no doubt. His mother had a rule that she never went to bed until everyone was home, that way she could do one final check-in. She was going to be in for a long night. Steeped in regret, his thoughts dragged themselves to his father. His sweet, loving father, who brought him off the street into a warm, safe home. His father who didn’t get irate when James had to move back in after losing his job. His father, who was pretty much the only reason he got off his ass at all in his slumps. He would never see him again. 

Pietro was squeezing the life out of the brakes, the tires squealing like a pig as they burnt through the road. Instantaneously, the front tire stopped moving, but the bike didn’t. Somewhere along the way, James’ unfeeling hands lost Pietro. Pietro, his longest friend, who had put up with so much and faced the shit with a smile, was now going to die by his hand. His fault, he wanted to go in the diner, he had been pulled off the bike. He had been the one to let go. 

Weightless.

He felt weightless as he flew away from the bike. Eyes open, he could see the sun. Golden, bright, glowering down at him. Silence pricked an endless cacophony in his ears and he felt as though he was floating up to the sun, to whatever heaven rested above in the sun. Blood red filled the sky and targeted upon him. Honing in and burning him alive. Eating away his flesh and leaving him with searing pain. 

Flight. 

Sky. 

Sun.

Tarmac.

Pain.

Nothing. 

No family. No sunlight. No Pietro. No bike. No woman trying to kill them. 

Nothing.

Just pain and stillness.

Wait… had she won?


	3. Three- The Fallout

"Hey," The voice was soft even though James knew it has no reason to be. He looked up to the stranger looming over him and held the wallet close to his chest as he was backed into a corner by the stranger he had just stolen from. "What's your name, kid?" 

James froze a little and found himself unable to speak. He just stared up at the man who had crouched down to be at eye level with his young, small frame. This Goliath of a man tried to meet his eyes but James wanted to look at the floor instead. Anywhere than the other’s blue eyes that scanned over him. He couldn't read those eyes, so he thought it would be best not to. After all, he wouldn't make it out okay for getting caught anyway. 

"Do..." The man started again somehow softening his voice more. James flinched more, expecting the man to pull him into a false sense of security before he gets absolutely lamped by him. "Do you have a name, little guy?" 

James nodded a little bit. "I- I'm not s'posed to say it... I'm not s'posed to get caught..." He was shaking now, it had taken the man too long to delve punishment, keeping him in wait was almost cruel. 

"Well- you don't have to tell me your name, but I do have to ask. Why did you steal it?" The man had completely encased him. James knew he couldn't escape. 

James was still looking down at the floor as if some rock was particularly interesting or as if the new hole in his worn down, too small shoes was a new wonder that he had to explore more of. "Mister says I have t'..." His voice was a quiet mumble. He wasn't entirely sure how the man heard it at all. 

"Why does he make you do that?"

"To prove that I deserve it..." James said back like it was a perfectly reasonable statement. 

"Deserve what, kid?"

"Food... Love..." His voice was scarcely a whisper against air and he wasn't sure how his throat managed to make it. He couldn't help it though, as he spoke he realised he had failed, miserably too. He had gotten caught. He failed. "I don't though, Sir." He looked up at met the stranger's eyes to find what seemed to be an ocean of concern. 

The stranger moved his hand up slowly to hold James' shoulder but it wasn't a harsh pulling, it was more of a 'Hey, I'm just letting you know I'm here.' The feeling was entirely unfamiliar, but not unwelcome. 

The stranger struggled for a while over what to say and when he did speak his voice was hoarse like he was upset. "He..." He began again starting slowly as he chose his words. "He says you don't deserve food?"

James found himself nodding, despite not fully knowing if he needed to at all. 

"Are you hungry, little guy...?" The man's voice was honest and so were his eyes. James didn't even need to respond before the man continued. "Come on, let's get you some food." 

James felt a panic surge through him. "But- I don't..." He stopped for a moment getting himself flustered. The stranger, however, didn't seem to budge and waited patiently for him to finish. "I don't deserve it, Sir. You caught me- I failed. You're going to hurt me now. Or- or you're going to take me back to Mister and he's going to hurt me." 

"I'm not going to hurt you, kid. And the name is Steve. None of that Sir businesses, okay? I just want to make sure you're alright. You don't seem alright right now." His voice again was earnest, gentle, slow enough to take in and soft. He couldn't help but trust the man before him. 

"Steve..." James repeated trying to get used to the word. Slowly he moved and handed the wallet back to him with shaking hands, half expecting this to be the end of their interaction. 

Surprisingly, Steve took his wallet, thanked him, then stood up. "Come on, kid. What kind of food do you want?"

"W-won't Mister get mad if he sees me with you? He'll hurt me if he's mad..." 

Steve thought this over for a moment. "Whoever this Mister guy is, I'm not gonna let him hurt you kid. I’m gonna keep you safe. I promise." He held his hand out for James to shake, which James hesitantly did.

His hands were big, they were warm. James didn't want to let go of them, so he didn't. He glanced up at Steve nervously but still didn't let go. 

"You want to keep a hold of my hand there, buddy?" Steve asked gently, not a trace of mocking anywhere in his voice. 

James nodded a little bit and let Steve readjust their hands and lead him to a strange building filled with people. The building was filled with desks and people all sat eating. James shifted closer to Steve seeing the size of the group. Steve took him over to choose what he wanted, which he did after he realised Steve wasn't joking about this. He was genuinely giving him food. 

James couldn't help the smile as Steve led him over to a desk and gave him a whole plate filled with his food. Steve smiled seeing him smile.

"Don't worry if you can't eat it all, kid-"

"James..." He mumbled up at him, cutting him off in the process. "My name is James." 

"Okay, James. Well, the point still stands that you don't have to eat it all." Steve smiled down at him. 

Later in the meal, James looked up at him, shaking slightly and voice quiet. “Are you taking me back to Mister now? I’m his- so you have to don’t you?”

“I don’t know if I can take you back to him, James? Not if he doesn’t feed you. Did he give you those bruises?” Steve didn’t get an answer to that question but he also really didn’t need one. He could tell from the way James just looked at the table rather than at him. “This Mister guy your father?”

“No… M-my dad was a nice man... Mister is not nice…” James still didn’t look up at Steve finding his head too heavy to look up and face him. 

“I gotta take you somewhere then, James, just to make sure you’re alright. Is it possible we could find your dad?” Steve moved to sit beside him when it looked like was going to cry and gave him a tissue.

“He’s gone- I… but…” James finally met his eyes as he wiped away his tears. “You just… back there… you promised…” He took a deep and shaky breath. “You said you would look after me…an’ you’re just gonna leave me…”

“I’m gonna do my best.”

……………….

James didn’t expect Steve to be true to his word, not at all, but he knew that any life this man could offer him had to be better than the life he currently had. 

And it was. It really, really was. His life was safe and warm and fun. Sure he had his lows, but Steve was always there.

Even now, as James lay barely conscious, almost swimming in the blankets and soft mattress of the hospital bed, he could feel Steve’s hand holding his so tightly. He could hear Steves quiet talking to Peggy. 

His head was swimming, pain and what he assumed to be morphine pushing him out of his brain. He tried to ground himself on their words. 

“He’s going to be okay.”

“You’ve said that already.”

“I know, I just- I want to know what the hell he was thinkin’.”

James felt an overwhelming need to defend himself. So he spoke, sat up and opened his eyes all too quickly. The glare of the white light made his head scream in protest and his throat felt as though something had died in it. His body also shook from the dizziness of sitting up. So basically, it had been a bad idea. “Wasn’t my fault.” he croaked out. 

His mother's hands were cupping his face before he knew which way was up. His eyes focused on her. She had clearly been crying and she looked onto him like it was some miracle he was looking back at her (which, of course, it was). Tears slipped from her eyes as he met them. She pulled her lips into a genuine smile and wrapped her arms around him and buried a hand in his matted hair. 

“Hey-hey- I’m here. Mamma, I’m alright.” He laughed slightly, he couldn’t help it, he just couldn’t stand to see them like this, least of all over him. He was alive, that's what matters, right? He gets more time. Time with them. He's still alive. 

He glanced to his father (also crying) and tried to sush the pair softly. He was holding himself up by one hand and went to use his other to hold onto his mother but he found only radio silence. He tried again thinking the stupid thing was just still asleep. After the fourth time attempting, he looked at the stupid thing expecting it to work just because he glared at it particularly hard. There was only one problem, however. The stupid thing wasn’t attached to him anymore. 

Now he expects that the morphine greatly impacted his response which was to look dumbfounded and make something between a laugh and a sob, “Where’s it gone? Why’s it gone?” He looked at his parents as if they could tell him. 

Steve did offer a very weak, “You pretty much lost it in the crash… they had to cut off what was left…”

James just nods a little bit and sucks in a breath trying to comprehend what had happened. He looks around. There were three empty beds in the room. The one occupied one contained a sleeping man with light brown, maybe blonde hair, it was hard to tell. 

He almost didn't want to ask, “Where’s Pietro?”

“He's in intensive care, they think he should power through, though you were in quite a crash…” Peggy mumbled, still not letting him see her face.

He nodded a little and stayed mostly silent for the rest of their visit. They left after an hour when he insisted that he would be okay alone for now. He settled into the silence of the room and stared at the white wall, trying to focus on something. 

Eventually, he could hear his roommates breath. It was a grounding thought that someone was in the room with him. That Pietro was being looked after and there was nothing he could do but lay in the silence and try to get better, for him. He found he couldn’t actually remember the crash, just silver hair, a voice that sounded like death, and the sun. 

He was just happy they were both alive, for now at least. 

………………

He was woken up the next morning to sunlight pouring onto his face. He opened his eyes slowly feeling just as dizzy as he had before and he glanced around the room. They were still a horrendously obnoxious shade of white. He was really here, then.

Painfully, slowly, he looked to his side to find his breakfast had been laid out beside his bed. It was what looked to be a bacon sandwich and a glass of orange juice. He knew he was fastened to some type of IV, so he was careful when he moved to drink the juice. He drank it as fast as he could, still feeling death in his throat. He clattered the glass when he tried to place it down. 

The other man looked over at him suddenly and worriedly. “For a second, I thought you’d fallen.” His accent was so distinctly Harlem it actually made James smile. He was from Brooklyn himself but being so far from the city he did really miss the accent. 

“Just was a bit careless with a glass. I'm alright.” James managed to smile up at him gently. “What’s your name, man?”

“Riley Underdahl.” The man returned his smile. His hair was definitely more brown than blonde. “Yours?

“James Carter.” He returned back with a soft smile, spurred on by the infectious nature of the others. 

“Nice to meet you, James.” Riley watched him for a long moment. “You not hungry?”

“Fuck outta here, I’m starving.” James laughed lightly over at the other patient.

Riley seemed to nod in understanding. “Vegan or Religious?” 

“Jewish.”

“I see, well. My friend Sam is set to visit me later, I could get him to bring us some food, the stuff here tastes like armpit anyway.” Riley offered genuinely. 

“Now you’re talking my language.” James smiled, and he meant it. 

Sure, he may be in agony and helpless uncertainty, but at least it seemed like had made a friend. That was something, right?

“So why you here?” James asked him after a moment of silent smiles. He also figured that it was obvious enough why he was here to avoid the question himself.

“Well you see,” Riley moved the blankets off his legs to reveal he had a grand total of one and a half legs. “I was a pilot and kinda...fell out of the sky.” 

“Shit man, sorry to hear that. That must be awful.” James responded earnestly, he couldn't imagine being unable to walk without help. The helplessness that would accompany it must be awful.

“You ain’t sitting too pretty yourself over there.” Riley said back sympathetically. 

“It was my good arm too.” James laughs trying to inject some humour into the conversation and see the little spark that was in the eyes of the other before he brought all this up.

Thankfully Riley yielded and entertained him with a jovial conversation. They traded information about friends and lovers such as that Riley had a fiancé and they were looking at buying a place together if this blows over without too high a bill. James, having no partner to talk about, instead retold the story of when his father had to defend his stupid ex-boyfriend Jacques from an army of pigeons he’d managed to upset. 

Riley laughed heartily and continued to laugh through his statement. “You know, if dumbasses are your type, you’re really gonna love Sam.”

James, who was feeling up to a challenge today, responded. “Hey, I do have rather high standards.”

“Trust me, man, you haven't seen Sam yet.” Riley said, with more certainty than he'd ever heard before.


	4. Four- Breathe

James was silent while the nurses checked him over, though he obviously responded to any questions they had (somewhat dishonestly in a few cases.) They didn’t ask anything that was too difficult to lie about and he would only hurt himself by lying, so it didn’t bother him very much.

“How are you feeling, Mister Carter?” The nurse was changing the dressings around his arm. He, in turn, was watching her like a hawk trying to figure out how to wrap it, so that he could do something for himself. However, she did it all too quickly. She was remarkably professional and had him wrapped with seamless efficiency, so he was none the wiser as to how to help himself.

“I’m alright, thank you and please, it’s just James.” He smiled up at the nurse half-heartedly. “Thank you again.”

She smiled back at him pitifully and looked at his station to get him more water. “Are you not hungry, James?”

“Didn’t have much of an appetite. I'll eat it later, don’t worry.” He just shrugged a little. 

The pleasantries ended there, except for the promise of her returning in an hour to give him his medication. He politely smiled her out the door and sighed, leaning back in his bed. He waited until he assumed she was out of earshot before he spoke again. 

“She seemed nice…” His words expanded into the large room as if it were a cavern. “Are they all nice?”

“Yeah, most of them anyway- just be careful. They probably won’t listen to anything you tell them. They’re busy and all that.” Riley responded glancing up at him from the magazine he was skimming through. “Nothin’ to worry about.”

James smiled a little and nodded. “It’s just been a weird week, I’m a little on edge.” 

“That’s understandable.” He smiled up at James slightly before slowly speaking again. “Can I help you not be on edge in any way?”

“No- I’ll be alright, man- honestly- you really don’t need to worry, not about me anyway.” The words sort of tumbled from his mouth in the most defensive way he’d ever seen. James didn’t mean to get defensive, it just tended to happen. He reckoned he was just unused to the positive attention and concern from people (even after all his time with the Carters). It was that sort of attention that always made him feel like he was being condescended, undervalued. 

James wasn’t granted the luxury of dwelling as two tall, unfamiliar men appeared at the door. Walking like clockwork they advanced forward in a practised dance showing very clearly how often they visited. The slightly taller man rushed in more excitedly and practically pounced on Riley, smothering him with attention immediately. It was kind of adorable, in the sickly sort of way. James definitely shut his brain off when they started calling each other shit like button.

“Excuse me, I was told that you were my ticket to a bacon sandwich?” The Harlem accent washed over him as he opened his eyes and looks up at the man above his bed. The man before him had quite dark skin that the sun reflected gold along his high cheekbones. His lips also shone from the sunlight (and from the man biting his lip for a moment after “excuse me”). The heavens also seemed to agree with James that this man was gorgeous, as there was not a single human flaw on him. 

“I uh- Yeah that's me.” James had tried to play it smoothly but seconds before he had met the man’s eyes and Jesus, those eyes were maybe enough to drive men mad. A deep shade of brown that did all sorts to James’ stomach; it felt like he was sinking into the earth itself. Falling down into an endless rabbit hole that he couldn’t escape from. “Be careful though, Riley said the food here tastes terrible.”

Smiling, the man rolls his eyes. “Riley’s just picky with how he likes his bacon.” The man placed a small bag on his lap. “He didn’t say what you wanted, sorry if it's shit.”

James stared mesmerised by the bag before him. “You actually got me something?” He didn’t mean to sound as confused as he was as he took the container out of the bag. “I jus’ thought Riley was joking around.”

“He wouldn’t joke around like that, he’s not that mean.” He gave James an earnest smile before starting on the sandwich.

Inside the packet was a fruit salad and a pot of greek yoghurt, it was simple and, damn, would it taste pretty good too. It was perfect, he had it open in a matter of seconds (albeit enlisting the help of his teeth) and felt his pride swell slightly because he hadn’t needed help. He quickly began eating, praying that the food would soothe his still screaming throat. 

“Is that alright?” The man watched him for a moment. 

Smiling over at him James nodded. “It’s lovely- thank you. Healthier than I would normally eat, mind- but that can only be good for me, can’t it?” James paused for a moment. “Your name is Sam, right?”

“Yeah, Sam Wilson.” Sam moved slightly closer to him seeming unable to sit still. “I hear your name is James.”

James couldn’t fully explain why hearing Sam say his name made his stomach squirm and mouth go dry. James looks over at Riley who was almost entirely concealed by his partner at this point so he quickly looked back to Sam.   
“Don’t mind them- they’re like this all the time.” Sam was almost bored in his response as he followed James’ gaze back from the now laughing couple. 

“Someone sounds a little jealous there, Mister.” James tried to lighten the atmosphere with a little tease, and when he saw the eye-roll and tiny smirk he knew could keep pushing.

“I think I’m good not being eaten- or whatever the hell is going on over there.” Sam laughed slightly at himself. A soft, bright, infectious laugh, it sounded like sunlight. Pure, raw sunlight, the kind that made him feel like was on fire.

James couldn’t help but to laugh with him happily. “Aw, why not- it looks fun.”

“You should see them when they aren’t in the company of strangers. They basically become one octopus-esque mess of limbs. This is only a taste of what I have to put up with.” Sam gestured to exaggerate his annoyance.

“Riley said you used to be his roommate. Is this why you moved out?” James had by now finished his breakfast and placed his stuff beside him.

“After the shit I’ve heard, I would have gone insane if I’d stayed posted up in there.” Sam had also finished his breakfast, so he took James’ empty pots and moved them swiftly to the trash. 

“You didn’t have to do that…” James mumbled after a small thank you.

Returning to his chair before leaning back, Sam responded. “I know- but I wanted to. The trash would have been out of reach anyway.”

“I suppose. Do you wanna talk for a while?” James asked quietly. 

“Well, it's not like Riley’s in the mood to talk.” Sam smiled and turned more to face him, almost melting him in his radiating glow. 

……………………….

Sam and who James now knew to be Elliot were asked politely to leave at 12oclock by the staff to allow the others to eat. Sam had smiled and waved while being ushered out, giving James one last glance of sunlight before Sam’s smile was replaced by that of the nurse bringing in his food.

This nurse was tall, presumably in her late thirties, and her smile looked too exhausted not to be forced. He pondered for a moment how long her shifts must be and his mind thought back to all the news of strikes earlier in the year. 

Factoring in all this he decided to try his damned hardest not to make her life more difficult in any way. Therefore when he was presented with a plate of some unidentifiable meat paired with peas, roughly mashed potatoes, and gravy, he decided it best just to thank the nurse with a gentle smile and say a prayer before eating the meat. Thankfully, the texture of it made him largely hopeful that it was beef.

Eating was slightly harder than he anticipated it being; the knife and fork duo to which he had become accustomed failed him when one hand no longer existed. However, the nurse soon realised this so promised him a better eating solution for later. James wasn’t sure if that meant he would be presented a non-cuttable food like soup or noodles, or rather if he would be given another utensil like chopsticks or, hell, even a fusion of a fork and a knife would do. But while he was not amply prepared for that right now, he did still have his favourite problem-solving solution: brute force and ignorance.

It was a tactic that never let him down, even now against this particularly tough cut of beef. Managing to separate it into smaller chunks before becoming bored and just stabbing the whole thing with his fork and biting parts off.

Hearty laughter from Riley filled the otherwise silence as they both tried to eat as quickly and efficiently as they could, this resulted in a fair amount of mess which James joined Riley in laughing at. It felt good to laugh, especially with how often he had been allowed to do it today. Sam was a talker alright, and a smooth one at that. He felt as though Sam had stolen hours of his life as it had disappeared in a matter of snarky remarks followed by kind smiles that let them both knew to keep pushing ‘til they found the right button. 

…………

Swallowing pills was always something James sucked at, well, at least until he gave his gag reflex a few major workouts towards the end of his high school career. Now, he could knock back pills like a pro, but even that didn’t save himself from spluttering his antibiotics back into his hand when Sam loudly announced his presence at the doorway brandishing two bags before him and grinning like an idiot.

James hadn’t expected him back within the day, but it was a very welcome visit, despite what James’ growl of, “Fuck, you tryin’ to give me an infection or something, son?” might have told you.

“Damn, you got me figured out already I see, Jimbo.” Sam beamed back mockingly as James scowled and grimaced before taking the pills successfully. 

“I told you not to call me that, Samuel.” James leant back in his bed to observe him again. Sam was now stood between James’ and Riley's beds and was messing up Riley’s hair. Sam gave Riley one of the bags before turning to James with the other one. 

This bag was a disgusting shade of green. James hated green and, thanks to their earlier conversation, Sam was very well aware of that. Everything in the bag was green.

James couldn’t help but smile up at Sam while unpacking it. “You memorized the colour I hated for a joke? You are something else Sam, you know that right?” James laughed as he pulled out the horrific lime green glitter-covered notebook out of the bag. 

“I do hear that a lot.” Sam admitted with a bold smile as Riley leant across and kissed his cheek as a thank you.

“This stuff is really amazing Sam, Thank you so much.” James was laughing at each ridiculous green object until he pulled out this green tartan scrunchie whereupon he fell silent. 

James had quite long hair, it scraped past his shoulders and was rather wavy. On some days it almost resembled Peggy's and that's one of the things he adored about it; it made him feel close to her. 

However, it wasn’t like he could tie it up now. The scrunchie, though well-intentioned, only served to make him aware of this and dampen the moment. 

“You okay, James?” Sam noticed the silence, so turned more to him concerned. 

“I… can’t use this,” James mumbled then quickly spoke again for fear of sounding rude or whiney. “It's great and thank you again for getting me this but I can’t...”

Sam paused and looked at him for a moment apologetically. “Sure you can, c’mere.” Sam took the scrunchie from him and met his eyes, asking for permission for a moment before continuing. He swept James’ hair out of his face and swiftly pulled it into a bun in a matter of seconds with practised ease. “There, now you're pretty.”

James tried to think, tried to speak, tried to be ashamed that he had to have something done for him, but Sam touching him was like a bolt of lightning to the brain. He could only smile and thank him in a voice that he wished had more power behind it. He felt himself boiling up in his embarrassment as his face flushed. In an attempt to distract himself, he tried to flip it on Sam. “Where’d you learn to do hair- did you have hair this long once?” James couldn’t help but chuckle at the concept of Sam with long hair. 

“Fuck outta here, can you imagine me with that hair cut-” James could and it was very amusing. “It would be downright ridiculous. I learned while doing my sister’s hair, you walnut.” Sam laughed out while smiling at him also imagining him with that haircut. 

The laughter died down and James looked to Sam questioningly. “Why did you buy me all this stuff- you’ve known me a few hours? Not that I don’t appreciate it or anything, but...”  
Sam took a moment to answer, but that was alright. James still couldn’t comprehend the answer he gave, which was simply: “Because no one else had.”

For a moment, everything fell silent. James thanked Sam again and smiled honestly up at him. “I honestly appreciate it man, but damn, are you trying to be my new mother or something?” James pulled out the green apple accusingly.

“Hey, eating your five a day is important, young man.” Sam couldn’t get through his sentence without laughing and, to be honest, it was adorable. “An’ speaking of your mother, I thought you said she was coming down today.”

“She’s coming down later today.” James said with a certainty that started to slip away from him with the hours. 

………..

It was twenty past eight and James was knackered. Sam was only just heading home now as today had been his day off. James frowned slightly knowing that this was the cut off period for visitors and his parents were still a no show. 

While packing his things up Sam had rested his hand on James' shoulder. "Something probably came up. I'm sure they'll be here tomorrow…" It was a flimsy promise, but a welcome one regardless.

"Goodnight Jamie." Sam smiled at him softly before kissing Riley's forehead and wishing him the same. 

James hardly had time to say goodnight back to him before he was out the door. 

"See-" Riley started triumphantly after a few moments of silence. "I told ya, you'd like Sam.”

"He certainly is something else, isn't he?" James smiled and let his tiredness set in as he laid down. "Goodnight Riley- I'll see you tomorrow, pal."

"Yeah- rest easy, Carter."


	5. Five- Falling

James tried to open his eyes but the room was spinning too fast for him to comprehend and the skull-splitting headache wasn’t helping. He tried to sit up slightly to catch his bearings and he could feel a hand on him, steadying him. 

Ignoring the pain he was in, he opened his eyes to observe the person holding him. His eyes were met with an unfamiliar nurse who got him to lean back slightly. When his ears were unpopped, he could hear that the nurse was calming him. 

“You gonna talk to me, buddy? What’s your name?” The nurse asked clearly as he moved to get James a drink. Grounding himself in the water, the headache slowly eased.

“James- you're asking cos I had a fit right?” James spoke slower than he would have liked to in response. He looked around slowly to find that Riley was leant looking over at him worriedly, his eyes red and enlarged. Riley was leant across the gap between them trying to really see if he was alright.

James felt his chest tighten when he saw that. "I'm alright- honestly… I'm epileptic- this happens sometimes. I'm alright." Aching arms reached towards Riley as if to prove he was still alright, or still beside him at least. 

Fingers intertwined and Riley looked at the bedsheets. His frame shaking from what appeared to still be tears. Riley didn't say a word and he was only visible from his own bedside light, no light came from the window so James assumed it to still be early morning. 

Riley continued his silence until the nurse concluded that James was fine and had left them alone. The voice that responded was quiet and fragile, it reminded James of a candle that could be snuffed into silence by a harsh bit of wind. "Your lips were blue and you were crying- practically screaming…" 

"I'm sorry."

"I thought you were dying…" the uneasy whisper echoed around the room. 

The breath was sucked straight out of James' lungs. "It'll take more than that to kill me. I'm sorry I woke you up."

Riley just squeezed his hand gently as condolence and they sat in their silence, still clinging onto one another for dear life as they drifted into a deep sleep. 

………………..

Judging on how much the light hurt his eyes, it must have been around midday when he awoke. Scouring around the bedside table his eyes rested upon a small card that had been placed there. It was a soothing blue and it had a “Get well soon” message on the front. 

James opened it with an unsteady hand and was surprisingly anxious to read it. 

“Hey James, just writing to tell you Pietro has been moved out of critical care and he’s perfectly stable and still a pain in everyone’s ass. He’s asking about you.” The note was signed from Wanda, who was Pietro's twin sister. James knew she was nice enough, but he had never really interacted with her aside from in passing when he was waiting for Pietro. She had attached a photo, a polaroid of sorts, of her and Pietro. 

He looked like hell. 

Sure, in the photo he was giving an exhausted smile, but if the neck brace, cast for the hand that threw up the peace sign, the elevated broken leg and the abundance of bandages on him were anything to go by he was in an ungodly amount of pain. 

Guilt shook his body and made his stomach convulse as if two serpents were writhing inside of him. The people weren’t after Pietro, they were after him. Pietro didn’t deserve to be hurt over this. Hell, James had been the one who wanted to stop. He had practically led him into an ambush. This was all his fault. 

He wanted to go apologize to Pietro, so he tried to stand and move but he found himself falling back down. He knew he had a broken foot, one that was in a cast and he still struggled to put weight on, but still expecting it to just be that he was unused to the new balance that came with only having one arm, he persisted pushing forward. 

He hadn’t walked in days, so his legs felt like jelly and he was staring down at them. He tried to fall into a rhythm, to march almost but his footsteps fell sporadically and unevenly. He must have looked like a right mess, but Riley was the only one room and he was still asleep. Finally, he made it to the door and he tried to continue when he was met by an obstruction. He was slipping backwards but the obstruction helpfully caught him. 

“Falling for me already, damn.” The voice above him laughed. Sam. James was suddenly all too aware that he was being held by his waist as he was steadied. 

James snapped his head upwards to watch him and he couldn’t help give him a small smile. “Asshole.” 

“Aw, don’t be mean, Jamie.” Pretending to be insulted by his remark Sam pouted but still helped James find his footing again. “Where were you off to in such a hurry?” Sam didn’t move his hands off James’ waist- whether out of comfort or distrust of James’ ability to stand, he wasn’t sure.

“I wanted to go see my friend,” James explained looking up at him, catching his eye for a second and feeling his cheeks heat up slightly. 

“Do you know where he is?” Sam asked cheerfully as he prepared to set James on his way again. 

“No.” James admitted quietly, feeling only a small amount of shame from that. 

“Did you think about this at all?” Sam laughs letting go of his waist with a smile. 

“No.” James repeats with a smile up at him. “Was I supposed to?” He smirked up at Sam with mock innocence. 

Sam rolled his eyes. “It would’ve helped. Come on, let's get you back to your room so you can sit down while I ask where the hell you’re going.”

“I don’t need to sit down.” James protested weakly while swaying and looking exhausted. 

“James,” Sam sighed watching him. “Do I need to carry your ass in there before you pass out or what?” 

“Don’t you fucking dare.” It was almost a challenge. 

A challenge Sam didn’t take as James had enough sense to walk back with him and he reluctantly gave in to his exhaustion by sitting down.

Sam walked to reception and was laughing his head off as he returned. James tried to ignore how plain pretty the sound was and how Sam’s eyes creased as he smiled and how Sam’s cheeks dimpled as he tried to stop the laughter. It was also kinda funny when the woke Riley up for a second and Riley proceeded to grumble at him before turning over. 

“What’s so funny, Wilson?” James asked unable to help himself from smiling at Sam. 

“You were planning to walk yourself to the Bronx. Your friend is in another hospital, you dumbass.” Sam was still laughing as he stood above him. 

James had half a mind to kick him. “How was I meant to know that?”

“You're still a fool, James.” Sam smiled and looked over at his bedside table. He smiled slightly seeing the card. “Have your parents came to visit then?”

His mouth went dry and he looked down. “No- they still… they haven't- I- they promised they would but…” He quickly found himself very stressed about everything. He wanted his parents. He only felt safe around them and they weren't here. Even after they promised. 

Even after Steve had held his hand and looked into his eyes and promised they would visit every day. James had looked all over Steve's face and read only honesty.

James was 19, he was still basically a kid, he had been targeted and attacked and now he was alone in a hospital. He had made a few friends, sure, but that did not leave him anywhere as stable as his family would have made him. 

He was frustrated and before he knew it he was crying. Tears flooded his vision and obscured the world behind the woeful waterfall.

He almost didn't see Sam kneel in front of him. Almost didn't feel Sam take his hand and almost didn't hear Sam begin to talk. “Hey- Hey, I'm sure they have their reasons, come on, you're okay…”

“But…” James tried to bite down any sobs that would emerge and was embarrassed how emotional this hit him but it stuck something deeper, something he'd always been afraid of. “What if they don't want me anymore-” he couldn't meet Sam's eyes, it was too difficult. "What... what if they're done with me?"

"That's crazy James. They're your family. They love you." 

"They aren't here." James cut him off and slouched forward, letting exhaustion consume him. "Everyone leaves me eventually." 

Sam just let him lean on him in silence for a few moments. "Jamie, this isn't your fault. You know it's not, right?" 

"It feels like it is…" James whispered quietly against him. 

Sam just shushed him until he started to fall asleep, where he was moved to lie down. James didn't know why Sam had even bothered to look after him. It's not like Sam got anything out of it. He had just wasted his time on James. He stayed with him ‘til he was asleep before presumably moving over to Riley. 

……………

The next day, James was weakly stood above Riley's bed with his hands outstretched. Riley gripped on to his wrists and stood, using James to balance himself. James smiled down at him. 

They walked over to the window so Riley could see out of it (admittedly a carpark didn't make for an amazing view, but he digresses.)

Despite the lacklustre view, Riley was smiling from ear to ear. "It's so good to see the sky again…" 

Glancing into the pale azure blanket that expanded above the world before them, James felt like a child watching it. He was observing with such wonder, it was as if he still believed the clouds were made of cotton candy. Who could blame him, he'd not really looked at it since he arrived at the hospital four nights ago. He could only imagine how Riley felt as he was almost reduced to tears by the sight. 

They stood there for what felt like an eternity, just watching the clouds until there was a small sob-like noise from behind them. They slowly turned around. Elliot was watching them carefully. It was the first time James had ever gotten a good look at the taller man. 

Everything about him seemed elongated, this did not make him unattractive, mind, it just made him appear thinner than he should be. Riley had mentioned something about him being nervous when they were apart, maybe that had something to do with it. 

Elliot broke into a smile and stepped closer to them. "You're stood up…" 

"I'm basically being carried, it doesn't count." Riley muttered, smiling up at him.

Elliot took his hands and switched to holding him up and hugging him. He glanced to James and mouthed a few thank yous until James waved him off to tell him it was nothing. 

The three of them stood still for a moment before Elliot glanced at his phone and got an idea. He held onto Riley and pulled out a radio app on his phone, and quickly found one that did slow songs. He grinned down at Riley with a massive grin as he asked him to dance. 

A short while later Sam had also arrived so James had asked him to dance as a thinly veiled excuse to be competitive with the other couple. It was just a harmless bit of fun, but James was a trained dancer for a while as his mother sent him to lessons almost as soon as he'd been adopted. But with the foot cast and a novice partner, he was mildly frustrated with every step. Nevertheless, they still gave them one hell of a fight. 

The dance battle for the ages was short-lived as a new song was played by the radio and Riley and Elliot descended into talking about their wedding and how they wanted this song to maybe be the first dance.

Sam was too busy laughing at James to mind that the others weren't really dancing anymore. "You're awfully competitive there, Jamie." Sam laughed fondly at him.

"This is something I can normally do very well." James mumbled just letting the rays of Sam's laugh wash through him. 

"You dance? Couldn't tell from this display." Sam raised his eyebrow waiting for a rebuttal.

"Actually, asshole, I've done this shit competitively." James stuck his tongue out at Sam.

"Did you win?" Sam rolled his eyes at James for being juvenile.

"It depends if Pietro was also competing. Because that man is a beast and I've not known anyone beat him." James answers honestly with only a hint of jealousy in his voice. 

Sam just laughed a little. "Alright then. Since you're the professional," Sam met his eyes and began to set fire to his soul with his eyes and his damned smile. "Teach me." 

"Is that a challenge?" James asked, biting his lip before adjusting his posture and getting Sam into a correct stance by (gently) kicking him until he moved his legs. 

"Of course it is, Jamie."

Sam was a terrible student. He was doing it deliberately. It was just the little things, such as Sam not knowing his right from his left, so James would get pulled the wrong way by him. Another thing Sam seemed incapable of doing was keeping his hands on James' waist, his hands kept slipping to the small of his back forcing the two of them to be closer together. James looked up the last inch Sam had on him to meet his eyes and show him his best annoyed look. 

"What's that for James? Am I not doing it right?" Sam asked innocently.

"You damn well know you're not." James mumbled but still couldn't help but smile at the mock offended face Sam pulled. Damn, he was adorable, and the bastard knew it.

Sam wrapped his arm fully around James' waist. Pushing that little bit more to see if James would recoil. Their noses were touching.

"Sam," James said breathlessly, leaning into him. He could have sworn the world vanished, leaving him surrounded by vacuous space as he began his collision course with the sun. They were fully pressed together now and he glanced at Sam's smirk before pulling away to whisper in his ear. "I'm not that easy, honey." 

"Oh, come on. You know you are." Sam protested with mock annoyance and a genuine pout as James walked away from him.

"You're gonna have to try a little harder, babes." James smiled over at him. 

"Is that a challenge?" Sam echoed his own words at him with a smirk. 

James didn't respond. He just shrugged with a smirk but that was the only answer Sam needed.


	6. Six - Silence

"Come on Jamie, don't be nervous. Everyone else is a beginner too. You're gonna be okay." It was his ninth birthday present that he could begin dance lessons and despite how much he really, really wanted this, he still found himself clinging to his mother at the entrance, terrified of moving forward. 

Peggy ruffled his short hair and squeezed his shoulder. "Come on Jamie, what's wrong?" 

"What if they don't like me?" He had definitely mumbled that. 

"Jamie you're a great kid, they'd be fools not to like you. And your cousin Sharon goes here, you know she likes you." Peggy pulled him off her so she could pick him up, which should have been harder than she made it look. "Look at me, Jamie."

He met her eyes but was sure of his nervousness. "Mama…" He glanced at the door quickly. 

"Jamie, I'll be sat in there watching with the other parents. I'm not leaving you alone here, buddy." They stayed in this battle till James subsided and nodded, finally agreeing to go in. 

Sharon was a few years older than him and she lived about an hour away from him. Despite all this, she had taken him in as a brother, so the second he was through the doors of the building he walked over to her nervously. She was surrounded by her friend, so he didn't know if she wanted to talk to him.

However, she smiled at him welcomingly and brought him closer to her. "This is my little cousin, James." 

He waved and he managed a small greeting before he was moved away from them into a group of his own age. He was almost scared as he was stared down by the lanky boy that was just a bit shorter than him who was observing him through electric blue eyes. His hair was a welcoming mop of brown and eventually, after a moment, he smiled at him. The girl beside him didn't smile for a lot longer. She had a bright red bob and her arms were folded.

"Who are you?" She spoke not fondly but not harshly, so James wasn't super nervous. He noticed that she was missing one of her front teeth. 

"I'm James… I'm new." He tried to smile at her, and she did soften towards him a little. 

"I'm Natalia- just try to keep up, okay?" She smiled and turned away from her. 

"She just likes to act like the Big Kids. Don't mind her. I'm Pietro." The boy smiled fully at James. "It's really nice here honestly. Have you ever danced before?"

"Sharon tried to teach me." He admitted, stepping closer to him. "But I'm not sure if I'm any good."

"Want me to quickly catch you up on this routine?" Pietro lead him to an unoccupied section of the floor. 

"Yeah- you can teach me." He smiled happily up at the other boy. 

Eventually, he got the hang of it and Natalia even warmed to him a little. Something felt off about her, James almost felt like he'd known her his whole life. They would grow up to be close, very close. Her and Pietro were his only friends for the longest time. She understood his need to push out and she was the first person he ever came out to. 

………….

But the dream had to end, and he was still laid in a hospital while she was miles away studying at uni and probably sleeping with Sharon whenever she got a break from the police academy. He didn't know that for sure, but Natalia had definitely threatened to and she always kept up her threats. He missed them both almost painfully, but that might just be his craving to not feel so alone and have his family to tell him he's okay. 

Nothing felt okay. The hospital was still the same but he found his chest tighter, something was wrong. Scarcely managing to inhale he slowly stands and moves mechanically over to the window. The clock said it was well into the acceptable hours of the morning but the sky was dark from the rain clouds that subdued the skyline before him. Grey and white smeared on over the occasionally still visible sun. 

His aching body screamed up at him and his head was howling. He'd maybe pushed himself too hard the night prior. How could he help himself, there was a competition to win and a beautiful man to impress. He’d pushed his body to its limit, and now he had to face the music. 

The crutch fell heavily against the floor and he could hear slight grunts of effort, even still he didn't have time to turn around before a hand was felt on his shoulder. "Morning Jamie, the doc says I'm going home tonight."

He didn't need to glance to know Riley was smiling, but he did anyway so he could see his little smile. 

"That's great. Is Elliot coming to pick you up?" James smiled uncertainly. He was glad Riley was okay and was getting discharged, but it also raised a lot of fear in him. If Riley's left, he'd have no one to talk to and he'd be lonely for however long he'll be kept here. It dawned on him that Sam would also have no reason to visit, so he would really be alone. However, he forced that thought down so he could be happy for Riley like he deserved. 

"Yeah, he's bringing my clothes in an hour or so. " Riley smiled and met his eyes. "Are you gonna be okay on your own?"

"I-" He paused, not knowing what to say before kicking his brain into gear to allow Riley to go home guilt-free. "Yeah, man. Imagine how much sleep I can get without your snoring keeping me up." 

"Hey." Riley laughed and protested and pulling him into a one-armed hug. "Can I write you my number so we can keep in touch in a better environment?"

"I'd love that." He smiled honestly. Not all was lost, then. He just had to make it through his time here, then he would be okay. He could see his family and he could see his new friends. 

Riley gave a wide smile and rested on him for a long moment before going to get his stuff ready. James helped without hesitation and a gentle smile. 

He just had to survive the silence. 

……………

Elliot arrived and had Riley changed and ready to go within half an hour. They both said their goodbyes to James and he waved them off sadly. It was a quiet affair. Elliot had never been a talker and James didn’t know what to say, so they let Riley's jovial voice dominate the room and ease their tensions. 

All too quickly, the room was silent. They wouldn't have even made it to the lobby by now, but the sound decimated his ears as if they had left the planet. 

He was alone, drowning in the sterile sea of white that surrounded him. Emptiness washed over his head like a crashing wave and he backed into his bed as if washed there by the crushing air he could scarcely breathe. Dismally, he watched the ceiling, oblivious to the passage of time, only witnessing the changing of the light around him. 

Nurses bustled in and out of his room, never the same as the last when they gave him food. He almost contemplated trying to talk to them, but knowing they were busy after the food he just laid back on his bed to resume his hollow excuse of entertainment. His heavy eyelids closed, unable to resist against the alabaster induced boredom. 

He wasn’t sure how long he was asleep, but he was woken up by someone trying to place something on his bedside cabinet. He tried to speak, but found he could only mumble as he sat up. 

“I wasn’t trying to wake you.” The excuse fell from his mouth quickly and James laughed at how apologetic he sounded. There was no mistaking it. That was Sam's voice. 

James snapped his eyes open to observe the man beside him who had been caught in the act of putting a muffin doused in green frosting beside him along with a card. Sleepily smiling up at Sam, he received a blinding smile back,  
which severed all cognitive function within him. 

“Didn’t think you would come…” James muttered before he could think about what he was saying. 

Sam’s smile retracted (which James thought left the room kind of bland and lacklustre without its glistening presence), and he looked almost hurt. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Riley’s gone home…” James said simply. “I thought you’d be done with me.”

“I didn’t want you to think I was just done with you…” Sam was talking quickly, working himself in a panic the moment he glanced at James incredulous face. “You said it was something you were scared about and you’re such a sweet guy I didn’t want you to think I was just….”

James was stunned by the genuine compassion in the man before him. He met his eyes almost in his belief and he didn’t care that his mouth was slightly open as he watched Sam. 

“I just wanted you to remember that I care about you- that you are cared about... you deserve to feel loved- not that me being here means I…” Sam was blushing so deeply James could feel the scorching heat that emanated from him. “That's if you even want me to be here- which you probably don’t so-” Sam spun on his heel trailing off as he mumbled his way through; “I'll just be going..”

James realised what was happening a second late, he grabbed Sam’s had as if it was a reflex action and pulls him back a little. “You talk quickly,” James remarks not letting go of his hand and letting the heat coat him. 

Sam met his eyes in a questioning panic. 

“Stay?” James’ voice was a quiet plea and they both know that wasn’t an intentional voice crack. “Please don’t leave just yet.”

Sam was silent as he nodded and sat down, taking a moment to readjust his panicked breathing. 

James brought Sam’s hand to his lips and kissed it softly. “You’re alright, deep breaths.” He wasn’t sure what inspired the intimacy but, Jesus, it came as easy as breathing. Sam’s hand was soft under his lips and he smiled a little at how fiercely Sam blushed. It was his turn to feel the almost scorching heat that James had felt from the moment he laid eyes on him. “That’s it, you're alright.”

Sam calmed down after a moment, but the blush still smothered his cheeks. James could tell that Sam was comfortable and calm enough to keep pushing. He couldn’t see the line in the sand yet.

“You brought me a fucking green cupcake?” James asked through a laugh. 

“I thought it would be funny...and it would annoy you a bit.” Sam smiled sheepishly at him. 

“Well, jokes on you.” James leant close to him with a smirk. “I don’t hate green anymore.” James glanced down at Sam’s lips then back at his eyes as if trying to decide which one drove him crazier. “It makes me think of you, so it’s naturally moved up in my estimations to mild contempt.” 

Sam tried to laugh but his throat was too dry, it came out as more of a gasp which made James smirk and move back. 

“You only started liking it to make my life harder.” Sam didn’t quite pout, but he did something to that effect as he leant to fill the space that was left between them. “You’re a pain in my ass.”

James hummed in agreement and pulled off his covers. "I do try." Swaying slightly as he stood, he gripped Sam’s hand gently, for comfort or support he wasn’t sure. Stumbling into Sam's chest, he found he was soon embraced by the other man's arms. 

As he slowly pulled Sam towards the only guest couch in the room, he rested his head on Sam's chest, almost enchanted by his heartbeat. 

When they sat down, Sam pulled James onto his lap so they would be at eye level again. James curled into him naturally, moulding together with practised ease as if they had known one another for years, rather than mere days. 

Sam let out a soft sigh and ran his fingers through James’ hair  
absentmindedly. The sensations on his scalp made James feel as though he was being tethered to Sam. He felt an almost electric charge build-up in him and he cupped Sam's face to release it. Completing their perfect circuit as his fingertips made a gentle connection with Sam's cheek. 

"You've got no idea what you do to me, do you?" James' voice was soft and fragile but earnest to the core. His eyes skirted around Sam's as the heat would burn him at this point.

He felt Sam's hum of intrigue more than he heard it, so he continued. 

"You've reduced me to a fool, Mr Wilson." James smiled widely at him. "You almost conned me into believing that the world had to be good, if it made someone like you."

"James, you give me far too much credit here." Sam protested, kissing James' palm before shifting himself to hide his face in James' neck. "One man doesn't make the word good."

James in this new position was forced to look up at the window, the sunlight waning fast and catching him straight in the eye. Yet even that didn't blur his vision as much as feeling Sam's breath on his neck, nor did it hurt his head as much as those gold speckles on Sam's skin whenever the sunset caught it just right. 

"You may be right, but you're not just one man, are you? Not to me, anyway. You make my life good right now… that's more than I can say for any other man.” James spoke slowly as Sam fried off his brain with his lips pressing briefly on his neck. 

"Well the bar isn’t exactly being set high, is it?" Sam looked up at him and forced him to meet his eyes.

"I suppose- but hey, let me compliment you." James mumbled with a smile. 

"Well I can't stop you, can I?" Sam protested as he moved James' hair out of his face. 

"I can think of a few ways you could?" James offered unhelpfully with a smirk like the bastard he was.

They sat in contemplative silence before Sam shrugged and motioned for James to start talking, which may have been a mistake. When James began talking his brain shut off and his words tasted like sunlight. He wasn't sure what he was saying but he was looking at Sam, at this beacon who had done so much for him and it just felt right. 

Eventually, Sam pressed a finger on his lips and James flinched himself into silence. 

"I think you've made your point, Jamie." Sam said bashfully. 

James smiled shyly back as his brain came back online. "Sorry…"

"No- don't be. It's just late is all, and if I'm really as blinding as you say, I should get going so you can sleep. I'll bring you my ramblings tomorrow?" Sam cupped his face with both hands. 

"Well- " James was struggling to think of a reason to prolong Sam's visit, he knew that wasn't really fair but he hadn't lied about Sam being the only thing that made him feel safe. "What if I need a nightlight?" 

Sam kissed his cheek with a sigh. "Are you asking me to stay the night?" 

His face was hot from where Sam touched him and his lips were just as soft as they looked. James was with the fairies a second too long before nodding. "If that's alright?" 

"Fine, but only because you asked so nicely."

He had fallen asleep on top of Sam on the sofa. Listening to his heartbeat and drawing on his chest, the time had ran away from him all too quickly. 

This made waking up alone in his bed all the more of a shock. He was cold and the silence consumed him. The light was hurting his eyes so it was obvious that Sam had let him have a lay in. Pulling himself up, he tried to find Sam but he only an empty couch.

Heart in his throat, he looked around frantically trying to find him. But he was clearly gone. He had left nothing. 

Nothing.

James sank back in his bed and reached for some water. His fingertips brushed against a note. He was an idiot. 

"Hey handsome,” The note was done in very neat writing. James had heard somewhere that handwriting was the written version of an accent. That must be why James found it just was stunning as Sam himself. "I've gone to get us breakfast, I'll be back soon, please don't worry." 

He smiled and held it close to his chest. Sam called him handsome. It made his head spin and his heart flutter as though attempting to escape his chest. 

It was terrifying, his heart was free-falling, liable to crash and shatter at any second. But then he would think of Sam's rabbit hole eyes, and suddenly it didn't feel like falling anymore. Suddenly he would think of Sam's lips, and Wonderland had never looked so good. 

…………...

Footsteps shattered his fantasies and forced his attention to snap towards the door. The boot was heavy, brutally smacked against the floor before stilling dead in its tracks. 

He couldn't explain it but the footsteps called him to watch the boots rather than the face. He knew those steps and they made him want to curl up and hide. They secreted poison in every step and made it hard to breathe. 

Slowly he looked up at the man and he recoiled slowly. Short thorns of blond hair and calculating blue eyes. He must have been middle aged but his cruelty seemed to emanate from him. Sharpening his gaze and his jaw and making his eyes feel like they were eroding James' bravery. 

The man spoke simply, and his voice was venom. "Hello, James." His voice practically fell from his lips and crawled like bile towards him, sickening James beyond belief and making him believe once again that he was dying. 

"How are you feeling, little one?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are about to go downhill so be careful if you don't wanna read that.


	7. Seven - That Name

James' voice betrayed him. He couldn't talk, he could just shake and try to scramble back from the man. But he knew that his futile movement would only tire him more than he could take.

"You know better than to scream, don't you, James?" The man asked, stalking his way towards him before perching on the side of the bed. He was too close, and that alone was smothering James. 

James nodded, more out of instinct than understanding. 

"You had quite a nasty little tumble off the bike, didn't you, Barnes?” The man's tone was mocking and left him winded. He spoke as if James were still a little kid and it cut deep at his mind and made his stomach convulse. 

Barnes. 

That had not been his name for years. He escaped that name. He fought to be free of it, yet still, he found himself trapped. 

He met the man's eyes slowly confused even as things started to slot into place. “What did you just..?”

“I called you your name.” The man almost sounds bored. “Georgie called you Bucky Barnes.” 

The memory hit him like a truck before he could make so much as a sound. 

A cold house, a thick blanket and a bloodied face that greatly resembled his own reading him a bedtime story. He remembers the man who looked so much like him, holding him close till he would drift asleep.

He remembers the man holding his hand tightly till they would both fall asleep on the sofa. He could remember the man taking him to the park that day so he didn’t have to watch the debtors take their bed, but he was sent to stand in the empty room with his hands over his ears as they took their blood. 

All too clearly, he could remember hearing the door close and running out to his father, a heap on the floor, a crumpled mess off flesh and bone. He remembers his father reaching out to hold his hand slowly and gasping in agony as he did so.

"Bucky- did they hurt you?" The accent that would normally have been thick was dulled by pain and the diction was smothered by the blood that was in his mouth. 

He had shaken his head so frantically before his face was bracketed by the bloodied hand. The blood was warm on his face and he couldn't help it anymore, he started bawling. 

This set something off in his father who began to move too quickly to not induce agony and sitting up before pulling him onto his lap and hugging him tightly. 

The stream of sobbed apologies that came from both of them was broken by only one thing, the man James saw before him now. Although back then his hair was lighter, almost white, and his suit was black. 

The man had sauntered into their house and coughed to make his presence known. "Isn't this a sorry state?”

James had pulled away from his dad and sprinted over to his boss. "Mister please, please, my pa needs help, please…" He had dared to grab the blond man's arm and pull. This meant he was met with a firm backhand to the face and firm ground against his back.

"You said you wouldn't hurt him!" George had cried furiously as the other man walked towards him. 

"No." The voice had been slow, calculated and the smirk was evident to James even though he couldn't see it. "I said that if you kept up with Winnie's payments and you and little Bucky did your jobs. Then and only then would neither of you be hurt."

"He's just a kid-"

"How old were you when you started, George?” The man cut him off.

George had had no retort beyond tears and the memory faded away to nothing but a sour taste in his mouth and rage in his bones.

He watched the man, sending back as much venom as he received. This man ruined his life and his home for so long, yet still, he was terrifying. Even in his almost casual attire, he moved like a man with more power than any man should have. 

"Mister, how did you find me?" James was frozen as the man simply smiled. 

"My dear boy, did you ever really think we lost you?" The words went straight to his stomach and had him second-guessing every time something hadn't felt right. Every time he had felt like he was being watched. Every time nostalgia made him feel sick.

This must-have shown on his face because the man smiled further and answered it. "We have controlled more of your life than you will ever know. That middle school teacher, that therapist of yours, that boyfriend, that boss, that bar. It's always been us, Bucky."

His head was swimming, too many faces and names. Yet somehow it all made sense. He screamed at himself for not realising it sooner. "Why?" 

"I think you can probably guess. You go and run off with a stranger. But you keep quiet. Thank you for that, Barnes." The smile was almost earnest and made James feel sick to his stomach. "You're gone, but Georgie can't just duck out, can he?" The man laughed at his statement for a moment before continuing with his bile. "He lives only for you most days. So he does what we ask and does it really well… but recently he's been slipping. That calls for punishment."

He had to look away from the man. The more he spoke the more James swore he could see blood on him, he didn't even want to think about whose blood.

"Then as if by a stroke of luck, you wander into our bar. It was perfect. We get you down and somewhere totally isolated in the span of a week."

Too many pieces slotted into place.

"What have you done with them?" His tone was angry and his hand was bawled into a fist. The man noticed this and laughed and stood, moving to the end of the bed.

The man meets his eyes with a smile. His glare was ice and his smile somehow colder. "Nothing nasty." He glanced to James's hand. "Yet."

He let his hand unflex with a glare. "So, what do you want?" James hated this. He had been free for so long, only seeing this bastard in nightmares and God awful flashbacks. Now all of a sudden he was eight years old again, battered after putting himself between this monster and his father or one of the other kids around him. There must have been over 20 of them all in his situation. They didn't need him, so what the hell did they want?

Why tell him all this now?

"I want you to understand me, Bucky. When I give an order, you follow it." The man glanced down at James' cast foot. He removed the velcro of the cast quickly. 

James went to kick him, to flail and free himself, but he stilled. He remembered this man, and knew that if he wanted his family to live, he had to just breathe. 

Trapped like a puppet on a string, James was caught in the grip of the man. Tight, calloused, the hand that gripped his foot was merciless against the recently broken bone; it applied pressure and something definitely broke again. 

White hot pain flooded his brain and his screams were cut off by his own hand clamping over his mouth. "Yet" the man had said. 

He couldn't help but kick away from him, and he was allowed to. Flailing back into his bed he found his throat whimpering and sobbing. 

"Mister- I- I won't let you down…" His voice was quiet: he wasn’t fully sure how he heard it. James was certain of it. If this is what they did to him, he didn't want to imagine what they’d do to his family. He had to listen to keep them safe. He had to be good.

He really felt like a kid again now. He curled into himself with more sobs. James could feel the older man watching his every move like a hawk. The man had always loved seeing James in pain, he used to get called his favourite a lot.

George had tried with all his might to protect him, but three people could incapacitate him with ease, and then he couldn't help anybody.

Sometimes, James found a way to use this favouritism, if another kid was getting a particularly bad time James could slide between them and he wouldn't be pushed aside like the others. He would act as a perfect substitution for whatever the other had done. Sometimes he was lucky enough to just bat his eyelids and have the man stop to talk to him. 

Desperation is a drowning feeling and it smashed into his lungs the longer the man watched him and the closer he moved again. James found himself having to fight against his body to get the words out. To push back even just a little. "I don't remember your name Mister… I don't remember a lot…" 

Sam would be here soon, he had to be. James just had to stay alive ‘til Sam came back. 

"You don't need my name, Bucky." The man watched him for a moment longer and stepped back. "But- It's Colt, and you'll soon relearn what you have to." 

James nodded a little and moved his foot. It should have been harmless, but one wrong move, one miscalculation and it touched the covers. White-hot pain killed his thoughts. Shock ruptured through his body and decimated his mind, shutting it down and letting him collapse into a state of shock.

……….

"You're crying?" The memory of his own voice ripped through his mind. He was knelt beside a boy around his age but quite a bit smaller than him. The boy had dark skin and effortlessly curly hair that framed his face and highlighted his cheekbones.

"No I'm not." The boy huffed back, still sobbing as he spoke. 

They were knelt together in a small alleyway around Harlem. The memory was fuzzy, but James could swear that he was outside a rundown apartment building, tall and crumbling concrete with maybe fifty windows that he could see. The side of the building had been graffitied the week prior; it looked like a rams skull which had been shattered. 

"It's okay to cry." James wrapped his arm around the smaller man. "I just want you to be alright…”

The boy leant into him carefully. The boy had short curly hair that tickled James' neck when he hugged him. "Buck, why do you care so much? You're not allowed to know me- if Mister knew…" 

"He doesn't know- and you're my friend Tommy, I'm always gonna care about you…" James squeezed him slightly and hid face as a car screamed past them. 

Tommy, oh thank goodness. If Tommy was in the memory then it was probably happy. He and Tommy had so many good times together before James escaped. He couldn't place a memory where Tommy was crying, it wasn't like they were watching a film, Tommy cried at them. But this wasn't a movie, so what the hell was happening?

They must have been outside of Thomas’ house. James doesn't remember Thomas's full name nor could he remember ever being inside the house. Their dads were friends, so naturally they were too. James was the taller and stronger of the two, so he would keep Thomas safe from his neighbours who liked to pick fights. Every Saturday they would meet, and James would sort out anyone who gave him trouble over the week. 

Thomas was right thought, they weren't supposed to be friends. They had different misters after all. But Thomas was kind and funny and for some reason, when James met his dark brown- almost black- eyes, it was as though neither mister existed at all.

Tommy had taken James hand and pulled his arm close. They used to laugh at how much paler James was than Tommy but there was no laughter that day, just concern and compassion.

"So- why are you crying, Tommy?" James asked simply with a small smile to the other. 

"Our dads are sorting it out. Bucky, I don't think we should get involved…" Even back then James knew Tommy was just dodging the question. 

"What should we do instead then?" He knew it wasn't nice to pry,’especially when this was supposed to be a happy memory. 

Tommy thought for a long while before smiling up at him. “Hide and seek?” 

"Fine, you have to be on first though." James smiled and hugged him before running off to hide. 

James had found himself a spot under the fire escapes by the alley. If he tilted his head far enough back he could see Tommy's floor, he and James along with Tommy's siblings left paint handprints across the wall in an explosion of colour. It was the only section of wall with that level of colour so it was easy to make out from this angle. James had been in charge of the red paint and was terribly pleased to have jumped the highest to put his print a whole foot above the others. 

All that was left for him to do was wait for Tommy to come and find him. Seconds turned to minutes and Tommy still hadn't found him. Granted, Tommy was always terrible at hide and seek. James thought he needed glasses, but he wouldn't go get tested. 

He couldn't celebrate his victory as the pressure and worry in his chest built up to be far too much. Car tires screamed through the street and James tried to retract from the noise, two steps and he had stepped on someone's foot. 

Swiftly a hand moved over his mouth and drowned out any of his shouts. 

He'd finally placed this memory. He knew how it ended and why his body was reacting so violently to the concept of remembering it. He knows it took weeks to get through it with his therapist (the lying bastard probably knew it before he even sat down) he could usually never get past that part. He never wanted to go past that. It was supposed to be a happy day playing hide and seek. It wasn't supposed to end like that.

"Shhh- Bucky, it's just me- you're alright, but we need to be really quiet right now,  
okay?" His father whispered in his ear and moved his hand to scoop him up. 

James knew better than to ask why; he just curled into his father's chest. He tried his hardest not to disturb his father's holsters that covered his body. His breath hitched in his throat and the air felt heavy, full of electricity. 

More tires wailed down the road and yelling began. George placed James behind him in the hopes of acting like a human shield if he needed to. Shouting turned to grunts and yelps of pain. James couldn't see anything the alley did provide much visual but he could see Tommy's father run towards them. 

What was his name again? 

Paul. 

James didn't know what he was thinking but he ran past his father to try and stop him. He knew it was dangerous and he knew that Paul was a priest, that he probably couldn't handle himself. 

So he ran. As fast as his legs would carry him to grab onto Paul's arm. They weren't yet fully out of the alley and Paul did stop when James pulled. James was crying about how it was too dangerous and he should stay where it's safe. 

Spinning on his heel and softening his face Paul knelt down facing him. He shushed James gently. "I'm gonna stop the fighting, it's gonna be alright Bucky." 

He shook his head crying heavy tears. "It's not safe, stay here. It's safe. They need you…" 

"Look at me, kiddo, it's alright." Paul spoke softly and messed up James hair. He would do that a lot, usually when they were playing an alley game together. 

James tried to imagine that this was just another game, that everything was alright. But there was another yell from the street and this wasn't a game. This was life or death. 

"They need you…" 

"Bucky-" 

James doesn't think he'll ever forget what a gunshot sounds like. Or what a bullet sounds like as it tears through a human mind. 

He tries, Lord, he tries to forget seeing the life drain out of his eyes, the bullet shatter through the front of his skull decimating Paul's face. 

Blood was warm as it covered him. Some even landed in his mouth. Paul fell on his side beside him and James eyes were met once more by Mr Colt and his smoking gun. 

………

James woke up with a scream in his throat and a taste that had never fully left him. He was too busy screaming to notice Sam wrapping his arms around him. He just kept screaming and retching, trying to get the taste of death out of his mouth. 

It all happened too quickly and he threw up over the side of the bed. Gentle hands rubbed circles onto his back as he continued to sob. 

Eventually his ears popped and he could hear again. Sam was talking to him softly but worriedly. 

"Jamie, what happened? You're crying." 

Speaking took a while, his mouth was still full of placebo blood and brain. "Sam- please, you gotta get me out of here…it's not safe…" 

Waiting for him to finish Sam pushed James hair out of his face and tied it out of the way. "You don't think it's safe here? James, what happened?" 

James just shook his head. He couldn't talk about it, they just needed to get out of here. "Sam- Sammy, please…" His voice was trembling and he clung onto Sam, too scared to look in case Mr Colt was still there. He couldn't trust himself not to attack him. 

Sam thought for a long hard moment and nodded. "Okay Jamie. Just let me call someone to clean this up, okay?" 

He nods a little and goes to stand up before he remembers. "Sam- my foot- it's broken." 

"Why the hell is-" Sam looked over at it and tried to find the foot brace. Sam met his eyes worriedly and reached out for his hand. "James- they told me your father visited- did he do this?" 

"That wasn't my fucking father!" He hadn't meant to yell, but it had forced its way out. The idea that that man could be his father sank into his stomach and made him feel ill again. "He's a bastard! He's not my father!" 

Sam froze slightly, gauging how serious he was being. Sam just nods and it seems to dawn on him how much James really needs to be out of there. "Breathe- he's not here right now…" Sam extended his arms towards him. 

"How do I know you don't work for him?" James accused refraining from crawling into Sam's arms. He didn't believe Sam worked for him, as Colt was under the impression that James was completely alone, but still, suspicious lurked. He didn't think his therapist was on Colt's payroll either. 

"James I don't even know who he is- please- just try to breathe. I'll carry you out of here, alright? We'll get you somewhere safe…" Sam's voice was soft, he couldn't bring himself to distrust it. 

"I'm sorry you have to do all this for me." James relaxes into Sam as he picked him up with ease. He leant onto his chest and wrapped his arm carefully around his neck. 

"It's okay, Jamie. I just want you to be alright. I care about you." Sam kissed his forehead when he could feel how fast his heart was beating. "Deep breaths darlin’, I'm gonna make sure you're alright. "

James nods, attempting a small smile. He couldn't think about what Sam said or how gentle his lips were. All he could think about was the door. They needed to get out, and quickly.


End file.
